


The waves will carry it away

by ilana_9



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilana_9/pseuds/ilana_9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagisa is alone on the beach... </p><p>At least it is what he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The waves will carry it away

**Author's Note:**

> Rosaveritas beta'ed this for me! Thank you! ^^
> 
> Go take a look at her work: http://archiveofourown.org/users/rosaveritas

With a strong wind carrying great stormy clouds, licking his golden hair, Nagisa is alone on the beach.

He still wears his uniform from school, but at this point it is already disassembled; he took off the sweater vest and his tie hangs loose from his neck. He had opened the first buttons of his shirt and had folded the hem of his trousers. His shoes are in one of his hands, the socks tangled inside them. His hair is a mess, even more than usual, and he refuses to look up.

He looks at the ocean, instead, and his feet sink every now and then in the sand. Walking is difficult. The loneliness is quietly creeping in around him, over his shoulder; it seems to want to surround him, like that strong wind.

He hates loneliness. He prefers voices, movement and company much more. He would rather be surrounded by people laughing and chatting, touching his shoulder and calling his attention for this or that subject, talking to him, asking his opinion and expecting him to talk and laugh back, while the noises from their hard work and their daily activities are around, the sounds of their lives rising in the air and their music floating like colored paper strips.  
Nevertheless, here he is, on the beach, after school, not producing any sound louder than his breathing, and alone, alone with the sea, the sand and the colossal gray clouds above his head. But he knows why he is there, in that situation that doesn’t match him.

He looks at the ocean again, with hopeful eyes, after all. Expecting and waiting, wishing; a sound, a voice, a sign of change.

_I wish it could go away. I wish…_

_I wish the waves could carry it away._

Absorbed by the vision of the ocean, he doesn’t notice the man in the suit behind, following him from a distance.

___________________

“Please stop,” he pleads weakly, expecting the worst.

“It’ll be over soon; be quiet.” The man doesn’t stop moving when he says it, and his voice sounds rough and tired. His slightly opened mouth is pressed against the hair on the top of Nagisa’s head, and he can feel the man’s breath, along with his chest moving, in contact with his back. He can feel the little rocks on the wet concrete wall he is firmly trapped against entering the skin of his hands and arms, biting the flesh of his face, and the man’s nails scratching the sides of his hips, the motions he is making against him worsening the scratches, the little bites. For some odd, cruel reason, Nagisa is fully awakened during the assault, his senses sharpened, more sharp than he ever felt before, even more than when he is concentrating right before a competition and – and this isn’t fair, it isn’t fair that this is what is now registered in his mind in an indelible way, and that he can recall from now on. He knows he will.

This is what makes Nagisa cry even more, cry feelingly.

“Be quiet, bitch,” the man says, but there is no traces of threat in his voice; he sounds more like if he is sighing, and apparently he doesn’t really care that Nagisa is making noises. “Feels good,” he whispers, in the same tone. And becomes somewhat quiet again, still pushing inside Nagisa vigorously and obeying a strange, particular pace. He stops every now and then, panting a bit, to better position himself behind the boy – his hips are completely pressed against Nagisa’s buttocks, and he can feel his sweaty skin – to spread Nagisa’s legs apart more with a little kick or to pull him against his body, and then continues.

“I’ll cum inside,” the man announces suddenly. His voice sounds tight, and Nagisa feels the man’s movements become fast and violent, his body smashing him even more against the concrete wall; the pain becomes unbearable again, and he starts to sob and cry even more deeply and resentfully, preparing a scream, but the man quickly covers his mouth, grunting with effort – Nagisa wants to beg him to let him scream, he wants to tell the man that he swears he doesn’t want to scream for help, he doesn’t want to call people’s attention or anything. He just wants to express his pain, just wants to take at least a bit of his distress outside of him and put it in this world, so it can exist in some form, an echo of a true happening.

The man comes, moaning obscenely against Nagisa's hair, hands pulling his hips against him with much more force. He leans on Nagisa, sighing and with his body trembling, like he wants to rest a bit or savor the moment, before pulling out. However, he releases Nagisa, moving fast to pick up his briefcase and blazer, and walks away, without throwing a single glance to the scene behind him, his hurry in leaving the place the only clue that he is aware of what he just did.

Nagisa doesn’t move immediately. He doesn’t want to move at all. He doesn’t want to have to stand up and walk, and discover the extent of the damage just by feeling it. He doesn’t want to have to put his pants back, to adjust his shirt and tie to give himself a somewhat decent appearance. He doesn’t want to look around to see that he is probably near Haru’s and Makoto’s house because he recognizes this district; he doesn’t want to be tempted to crawl to their houses and taint their probably calm, happy night with his presence. He doesn’t want to cope with the fact that he will probably choose to walk all the way back to the train station, take the train and come back to his house, fake a smile and then curl up inside his room and spend the whole night trying to detach himself of the wet, painful sensation down there, of that concrete wall and the smell of sea air.  
He thinks of Rei. He thinks of Rei’s beautiful eyes and smile.

The sun has already gone, and he stands up, puts his pants back and fixes his clothes the best he can. He notices that there are some scratches on his arms and face that are bleeding a bit, but all he can for now is clean them with the hem of his shirt and hide the stain. He collects his backpack and his sweater vest and leaves the place under the pier, walking on the sand with difficulty to reach the sidewalk and take the direction of the train station.

Nagisa thinks of Rei again, but he forces himself not to.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I love Nagisa and that he is one of my favourite characters.
> 
> Well, if you want to chat, talk about Reigisa and stuff, take a look at my blog and send me a message: http://ilanathepurple.tumblr.com


End file.
